The night was bitterly cold, with a dry, chill wind blowing in from the east that sucked all warmth away. All Hawkeye wanted to do was get home and warm up.

"I tried to contact the Colonel to update him," Havoc told Hawkeye as he stamped his feet, trying to shake off the seeping cold. "I can't reach him at his quarters or HQ."

"He'll be on his way here," Hawkeye replied.

She looked around the nearly deserted shopping district of East City. A few street vendors were still open, but it was too cold for shopping and everyone was going home.

A few hours earlier she had been looking forward to a quiet evening as she packed up ready to head home. She and Havoc had been the last ones in the office that evening and just as they were about to leave, a report had come in about a gunman terrorising a shopping district. She had telephoned Colonel Mustang to advise him of the report and the location. Then she and Havoc and a unit of patrolmen had bundled into cars and trucks and deployed into the area.

The soldiers had searched the area while Hawkeye and Havoc had interviewed what few people there were around. It quickly became apparent that the report of a gunman was fake.

"This is a waste of time. The Colonel won't be too impressed when he gets here," grumbled Havoc.

"Hoax reports are infuriating," said Hawkeye. "Wish we could lay our hands on the idiots who call them in."

"So what do you want to do, Lieutenant?" asked Havoc.

Havoc's implied meaning was obvious to Hawkeye. As the ranking officer on duty she could call a halt to the operation and stand everyone down. They could return to HQ or the barracks or home. She looked around.

"Ok I'll call it," she said. "Get everyone back to HQ, then dismiss those off duty and get yourself home."

"What about the Colonel? He'll probably be pissed off being called out on a wild goose chase."

Mustang hadn't arrived yet, but was surely on his way. Hawkeye looked at the car, thinking of the escape from the cold and the wind. "Who wouldn't be pissed off?", she said. "I'll stay here and advise the Colonel when he arrives."

"Are you sure, I don't mind if you want to get home," Havoc offered half heartedly.

"It's OK. I'll brief him," replied the Lieutenant.

Havoc smiled gratefully. "I'll handle him," was what Havoc had heard.

The soldiers were getting back onto the trucks as the last of the street vendors were about to close up. Havoc was about to get into the car, when instead he dashed over to a street vendor who hadn't yet closed for the night. He returned to Hawkeye a few minutes later carrying two bowls of steaming curried stew, and a couple of spoons.

"Least I can do for my Comrade," he smiled. "One for you and one to help calm the Colonel." and with that Havoc jumped into the car and drove off.

It was a thoughtful gesture on Havoc's part, but they both knew she didn't really need a bowl of stew to calm the Colonel. Sure Mustang would be frustrated by being needlessly called out on such a wretched night, who wouldn't be. But he wouldn't need to be calmed down, he wasn't that childish. Those who didn't know him well sometimes mistook him as ill tempered, arrogant or spoilt, but that wasn't Roy Mustang. Hawkeye had known him longer than almost anybody else and knew that he was motivated by a powerful desire to protect those around him and inspire them to protect others. He had developed a temper over the years, mostly after the experiences of the war, but Hawkeye knew who he really was and helped him to remember himself.

And so she waited. She found a spot almost out of the wind beside a low brick fence. The warmth from the bowls of stew tingled through her fingers.

Hawkeye watched as the last of the street vendors packed up their wares and closed down their stalls and drove away. A stray dog picked amongst the debris of the day looking for some food and warmth. She watched as the leaves were picked up by the breeze and spun about. The sound of the Colonel's car pulling up snapped her out of her reverie.

Colonel Mustang had spent a long afternoon out of the office at a series of tedious Council meetings. He'd made it home to his apartment just in time to get his boots off, before he'd received Hawkeye's telephone call. The last thing he wanted to do was go out into a cold windy night and deal with a violent attack.

To add to his grievances his car decided that perhaps the cold was to much for it too, and had stalled while he was driving to the scene.

Mustang was expecting to see a military search of the area being carried out, so he was more than puzzled when he got out of his car and all he saw was Lieutenant Hawkeye alone, leaning against a wall, gazing off at the distance with two bowls in her hands. The callout, the frustration of the car, the cold and the confusion of finding a deserted street compounded upon each other.

"Lieutenant, what's this all about?" He hadn't meant to sound quite so irritated.

Hawkeye snapped to attention, all thoughts of dancing leaves gone. "Sir," she replied, "the report turned out to be a hoax. We tried to advise you, but couldn't reach you at your apartment or HQ. You must have be on your way. Apologies Sir." Having reported the situation she relaxed a little and added, "What took you so long?"

"The stupid car stalled. This cold is ridiculous," he replied. He looked up and down the now empty street. "Did you stand the men down?"

"Yes Sir, I couldn't see the point in us all wasting our time freezing out here."

"Good." Mustang wondered how long Hawkeye had been standing out in the cold night. Of course she would be the one to stay and not leave another solider here to relay messages. "Sorry you had to stay out here waiting for me."

Perhaps it was the relief of suddenly not having to command an operation on a cold windy night, but Mustang started to feel a little relaxed. Yes, the weather was wretched, but here he was in the sole company of one of his most trusted colleagues and friends, with had no immediate responsibilities and no demands on his time. Mustang looked at the bowls in Hawkeye's hands. "What have you got there, Hawkeye?" he asked.

Hawkeye looked at the bowls in her hands. She had almost forgotten about the stew. It had helped keep her hands warm for awhile, but now it was stone cold.

"Havoc was trying to be thoughtful and left some hot stew for us," she replied. "It's cold now. I'll get rid of it and we can get out of here." She was about to head toward a nearby rubbish bin when something occurred to Mustang and he stopped her.

"Wait a bit. Why not warm up before we head off?" he asked, as he took the bowls from Hawkeye.

She saw a curious gleam in his eye and knew he was planning something.

"What are you talking about Sir. It's gone cold," she said.

Mustang stood there, delighted with the idea that was forming and beaming his most rakish grin, "Hey, if The Flame Alchemist can't warm up a little stew, what use is he?"

He took the bowls from her and placed them on the brick wall.

"Really Sir," said Hawkeye as she rubbed her arms. "You want to try this here? Now?"

All she really wanted to do right now was get home and warm up. But Mustang was suddenly enamoured with his idea, and even his First Lieutenant's obvious reluctance wasn't going to deter him. He'd often though about trying this sort of thing. But he'd never made the time to give it a go.

"It won't take long," he assured her. His enthusiasm was, as always, infectious and despite the cold, Hawkeye found herself wondering how it was going to turn out. As he started to slip on his ignition glove Hawkeye warned, "Just don't incinerate it."

Her warning gave him pause. Of course he wasn't intending to incinerate the stew, but this might be tricker than he first thought.

Mustang stared at the bowls of stew as they sat on the wall. The bowl was made of a thick, coarse type of cardboard, intended to offer some insulation between the hot contents and the customer's hand. The inside of the bowl had a thin layer of wax to waterproof the bowl and keep the contents from soaking through. The stew within was thick and loaded with chunks of vegetable and meat.

He had thought to set a flame around the bowl and warm it up, but then the container could very likely ignite and all would be lost. He could heat the stew directly, exchanging the substance of the stew itself for heat. But that would reduce the volume of stew, perhaps considerably. He'd have to think about this a little more.

As Mustang stared at the bowls, Hawkeye saw him drift deeper into thought, losing himself in pure alchemic calculations for their own sake. Of course Colonel Mustang could perform alchemy other than Flame Alchemy. Long before Roy Mustang had mastered flames he had learnt the basics of alchemy. He could deconstruct and reconstruct elements into different shapes and rearrange their molecules. For so long Mustang's alchemy had been linked only to war and destruction, "The Flame Alchemist", "The Hero of Ishval".

Standing there watching him as the wind tossed his dark hair about, his face lost the look of a solider and a commander. The Colonel faded away to be replaced by a puzzled alchemist, intent on solving a problem. It was like watching him when he had been studying as an apprentice under her Father's tuition. He had been full of hope and idealism, desiring to make his world a better place. Hawkeye smiled to herself as she watched him and remembered the home they had once shared and the time before the military.

Mustang didn't notice Hawkeye watching him. His attention was focused on the bowls. He had cardboard to work with - carbon base - he knew that could work. He just had to apply the correct alchemical formulas. The transmutation array on his ignition gloves wasn't going to be correct for this job.

"I need a pen," he said turning to look at Hawkeye. She was still watching him, lost in memories of their lives before killing and wars and Flame Alchemy. The look in her eyes, was it serenity or longing, caught him unawares. He looked at her directly. "What's the matter Hawkeye?" Mustang asked.

"Nothing Sir" she said, turning away and starting to check her pockets. She felt a little silly having been caught off guard day dreaming. "Not sure if I've got a pen," she muttered as she was brought back to the present by the cold breeze.

"Ah, should be ok," Mustang said, as he started patting down his own pockets, over his great coat and into his jacket until he finally pulled out from some obscure recess, a worn down piece of chalk.

The small white lump in Mustang's hand totally surprised and delighted Hawkeye. She couldn't remember when she had last seen him draw a transmutation circle. It didn't occurred to her that he would still carry about a piece of chalk.

To her own surprise she laughed at the sight of the chalk in his hand.

Mustang looked up, startled by her laughter. "What?" he asked in a slightly confused tone. In that moment he looked so unlike her commanding officer.

"Sorry," Hawkeye said, still chuckling.

"What?" he asked, a little more incredulously. "You wondering if I still remember how to do a simple transmutation?" he smiled.

"Something like that," she replied. "It just never occurred to me that you'd still carry a piece of chalk about. Your gloves usually suffice."

"Well, I don't want to blow up anything tonight. So the gloves can wait," he said.

Hawkeye realised she was in danger of touching a raw nerve. Mustang had been too often used as a human weapon by the military, and his ignition gloves were inexorably linked with destruction and death. She didn't want to ruin this moment of diversion from what their lives had become.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…. It's actually really wonderful to know that you still carry chalk," she smiled gently.

"Glad you approve, Hawkeye," Mustang said, returning her smile.

He drew a transmutation array around the bowls as they sat on the brick wall. His concentration was fully on the bowls as he extended he hands and placed his palms on the wall beside the cardboard bowls. As he did so, the markings of the array glowed and the straw colour of the cardboard changed to grey. The transmutation completed, he turned and grinned at Hawkeye, obviously pleased with himself.

"OK," said Hawkeye, wanting to be encouraging, but unsure as to what had actually been done. "Is it hot yet?"

"No," replied Mustang obviously disappointed at her lack of amazement.

"So….?," Hawkeye's expression asked for an explanation from her superior officer.

"I've transmuted the cardboard into graphite." It seemed obvious to Mustang.

"Because….?"

"Because I can," he crowed.

But Hawkeye's expression still required explanation, Mustang continued. "Graphite is carbon based, and it's non-toxic and can withstand moderate temperatures. A bowl to warm our stew in! You can look impressed now Lieutenant."

Hawkeye could see where he was headed but she wasn't about to boost his ego too quickly. "I'll reserve my impressed expression for now, Sir," she said.

"Very well," said Mustang as he pulled on his ignition gloves.

Without taking his eyes off Hawkeye he snapped his fingers and as expected flames spun out and swirled around the bowls. Mustang transmuted the air about the bowls into flammable materials and oxygen to feed the flames. Hawkeye had to admit to being impressed as he effortlessly managed the reaction. The flames danced about the bowls. It was beautiful. As Hawkeye watched the bowls and Mustang watched Hawkeye, the glow from the flames cast a play of light and shadow across their faces.

Mustang sustained the flame at a gentle level to warm the stew. So often his alchemy ended in destruction and pain. It was a delight for him to play with the flame, feeding it, keeping it under control, until the stew started to bubble in the graphite bowls. As steam started to rise from the stew, Mustang diminished the flame until it was gone.

"Nicely done Sir. Very impressive," smiled Hawkeye.

"Thank you Lieutenant. High praise indeed." Mustang replied. He took off his gloves and transmuted the graphite back into cardboard. When it was done, he handed a bowl to his Lieutenant. "Can I interest you in some hot stew, Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye retrieved the spoons from her pocket. "Thank you Colonel Mustang, very considerate of you," she replied as she handed him a spoon.

The two of them sat down with the wall at their backs, almost sheltered from the wind. They were surprised by how good the stew tasted and now, warmed by Mustang's flames, it was delicious. The night seemed a little less bitterly cold and wasted. Suddenly there was no wish to be somewhere else. For now it was more than enough for them to be together and share a bowl of hot stew.

AN - I wanted to play with the idea of Mustang as an alchemist independent of Flame Alchemy. Hope this was a pleasant diversion in your day. Comments/feedback alway welcome!